


The Recruitment of Leonard Snart

by Liu



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 21:48:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9626957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liu/pseuds/Liu
Summary: Rip has an idea how to mess with the Legends.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I just had this idea in mind after watching LoT 2x11... 'what would happen if Rip is the one to recruit Len for the Legion?'
> 
> I don't think there are any spoilers in this but if you think so, please feel free to let me know.

“A petty thief? This sounds like a spectacularly bad idea,” Malcolm drawls, but follows Rip into the run-down warehouse, raising his hand. “Let’s take a vote. All those in favor of not taking in any more strays?”

Damien snorts, his eyes darting around the shadows. “I’m torn between disagreeing with you on principle and acceding you might have a point.”

“You keep confusing this with a democracy,” Eobard mutters darkly - but his lackeys have ascended to the status of partners by force, and Rip’s instincts about the Waverider team have proven effective so far, so he doesn’t have a reason to agree with Malcolm’s shit-stirring ways. Yet.

“It’ll be worth it, I promise,” Rip smirks; there’s been something menacing and cold about his demeanor ever since he got back with the piece of the Spear, and it’s beautiful to watch. 

He follows the dusty maze of haphazardly stacked crates until the sound of typing becomes louder than their footsteps. The man they’ve come for is sitting with their back to them, seemingly engrossed in whatever it is he’s doing alone in an old warehouse with a no-doubt stolen laptop. But Rip’s not fooled for a second.

Leonard Snart knows he’s not alone anymore.

“Greetings,” Rip says, and the typing ceases; in the next moment, the cold gun is pointed straight at his face, Leonard’s blue eyes glowing much like the charge of his weapon. Eobard doesn’t move at all, which Rip decides to interpret as a show of trust instead of the speedster pissing his pants about the possibility of another speed-force abomination chasing him through time. 

“I’m changing my vote,” Damien mumbles appreciatively from behind Rip’s back.

Funny thing, the cold gun: Rip doesn’t recall being acquainted with it from this side, but he’s not particularly willing to experience the full effect. He raises his arms in a conciliatory gesture and smiles - it’s not a pretty smile, and neither is it kind, but Leonard Snart’s never been one to back down from a threat. Part of why Rip thinks the man will do beautifully with their little group of misfits.

“Mr. Snart, no need for a show of force,” Rip smirks, and Leonard’s eyes narrow. He doesn’t waste time with stupid questions such as ‘how did you find me’ or even ‘how do you know my name’, and skips straight to the one that actually matters.

“What do you want?”

“You,” Rip answers honestly. It gives the other man a pause (while Malcolm is trying to keep the snickers to a minimum). One breath, two, and Leonard’s face twists into the familiar sardonic grimace:

“Could’ve at least bought me dinner first.”

Rip’s in no mood for snarky exchanges - Eobard might get impatient, what with him not doing all that well with staying still. One glance at the laptop screen half concealed by Snart’s body tells him they’ve arrived at the exact right moment.

“I see you’ve been looking for your old pal, Mr. Rory - no doubt to offer the spare gun you’ve acquired recently?”

It’s not so much a question, and Leonard doesn’t bother asking how he knows. The blue eyes narrow again, though, and Rip knows every word matters, with this man. 

It doesn’t take long to elaborate on what they’re planning. Leonard’s vague disinterest throughout the explanation is making the other three twitch, but Rip’s not giving up so easily.

“I thought you should be given the chance to do something about your own death,” he deadpans, and Leonard stiffens - he’s misinterpreting Rip’s words as a threat, no doubt. “What would you say if I told you I know how your story ends? Two years from now, you’re gone. And what I’m offering is not only a chance to avoid that fate - but also a chance to turn things around. This city’s too small a playground for you, Mr. Snart. Wouldn’t you like to expand your horizons, so to speak?”

Disinterest gives way to intrigue, for the barest of moments, but Rip zones in on that flash of _something_ without hesitation.

“And what about Mr. Rory? The moment you give him that gun, you seal his fate. These people we’re fighting, they change him. They make him a _hero_ , same as you, and it’s not a good look on either of you.”

Leonard snorts at the thought - he can’t believe it, not yet, not without living through it all. “I’m no one’s hero.”

“You _will_  be, if you don’t stop chasing after a speedster when you could be changing the world.”

“Speedsters are overrated,” Leonard sneers immediately - to Malcolm’s great amusement.

“They are,” he agrees with a glance at Eobard, “and ours isn’t even _real_ , how about that?”

Eobard’s on Malcolm in a flash, fingers clawing into the assassin’s throat.

“Real enough to kill you,” he hisses. There’s a spark of something in Malcolm’s eyes - it’s decidedly not _fear_ , but Rip refuses to focus on those two right now (or on Damien watching the development with unveiled amusement). 

“What if I’m simply not an ambitious man?” Leonard smirks - and Rip knows they’ve got him, in that simple sentence, in a question that doesn’t sound like a promise but it just might be.

“What if I told you that you could shape reality not only for yourself and for Mr. Rory, but also your sister?”

Blood drains from Leonard’s face, and the cold gun is lowered in an unmistakable sign for ‘I’m listening’. 

“You could,” Rip repeats, “with the Spear of Destiny, there need be no scars on your sister’s body and mind. You could change it all. Make it better. You could have the power to do that... with _us_.”

Leonard’s eyes dart from Rip to Damien, to Eobard, to Malcolm who’s rubbing his throat and grinning like mad; and Rip knows this is too good an opportunity to pass up. He knows because he’s seen Leonard Snart’s life spelled out in police reports - the man’s always been good with calculating odds and what Rip’s offering adds up to a sum worth the risk. 

“So what’s the catch?” Leonard shifts his weight and raises an eyebrow. “I don’t suppose you just came down the chimney to deliver a free gift card to the destiny shop.”

Oh, he’s always been too smart for his own good - weirdly, without the weight of being the Captain, Rip finds that he likes the attitude. 

“Of course not. You’re the emotional blackmail - the people we’re fighting, they remember you as their teammate, as the man who died to save them. They’ll try to turn you around, bring you back into their fold. You think you can deal with that?”

Posed like a challenge, there’s only one way Leonard can respond. He tucks his cold gun into the holster and grabs a case resting near the table. Rip’s got no doubt about its contents, not when Mr. Rory’s latest police records are still glowing bright on the laptop’s screen.

“For Mick,” Leonard smirks, “I’ve got just the thing.”

_So do I, now_ , Rip thinks, but turns away without a word. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [tumblr.](https://pheuthe.tumblr.com)


End file.
